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by acesblindeyes



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: F/M, idk he seems like a rlly good hugger ugh, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6780292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesblindeyes/pseuds/acesblindeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he finally comes back, it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for months. You can finally inhale again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home

**Author's Note:**

> i want to hug dan so this is how i cope

He smells like soap and the sea. Which, you now realize, is a bit of an odd combination. But it’s in moments like these where you’re trying to notice everything you can about him- his freckles, his eyes, his stubble, the way he smells- everything. You have to stay in this bliss for as long as you can.

The thing is, your boyfriend is famous. And as the lead singer of Bastille, he tends to tour. A lot. For a long time. And you’re left at home, waiting for him to return.

Of course, you’re content with this. You’ve been together for so long that you don’t even need to question him; you both say that if the other is happy, then you are too. He has the job he loves, so you don’t want to be the one holding him back from doing that.

But you know you miss him.

You miss the notes on the counter, the extra coat hanging near the door. You miss the smell of bacon on Saturdays and the sound of the shower in the morning. You miss the grocery shopping and even the stupid fights where you end up laughing because the other cracks a smile.

You miss every single thing about him, and you have to soak in his presence while he’s still there.

And you think about all of this while you’re wrapped in his arms, pressed against his chest, hearts beating together. Breathing in and out. His shirt, which you spent half an hour ironing (thanks to his distractions- damn him), is now wrinkling as you shift a bit. You press your ear to his chest, listening to his heart.

His arms wrap a little tighter around you, as if trying to commit you to memory forever. 

“I miss you already,” you finally breathe out, throat tightening. Here come the tears.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t trust himself to speak. But he brings his lips to yours, and you sigh into his kiss. 

You miss him more than he knows.

\----

It’s strange to wake up and be holding a pillow and not Dan.

\----

When he finally comes back, it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for months. You can finally inhale again.

Soap. Ocean. Dan.

Home.


End file.
